Finding Kitty
by lilyjack00
Summary: ATC for Daddy-O, Kitty Lost, and Kitty Caught. A pre-M/K-relationship story-how the great love story might have begun.
1. Chapter 1

_This fic is an ATC for "Daddy-O", "Kitty Lost" and "Kitty Caught", episodes written by John Meston. It is vastly unrealistic, but please just sit back and enjoy the dramatic license I employed liberally throughout. Thanks to singerme for suggesting this ATC and beta reading along the way. Thanks also to DK for encouragement._

Finding Kitty

Chapter 1  
"Lost & Found"

"Bet you haven't learned a thing..." Matt had cocked his head and remarked flippantly to Kitty with an irritating smirk when he'd at long last located her, wretched and abandoned by dude James Rackmil on the lone, desolate prairie. Funny how, ordinarily, she would've found Matt's crooked little grin charming and irresistible, but not today. After the initial overwhelming relief that she'd finally been rescued had passed, Kitty was beginning to feel rather put out with everyone involved, especially Matt Dillon.

That man...he was so vexing sometimes! She was exhausted and ravenous after the interminable night, itchy from her foray into the brush hiding from the natives, and mad as blue blazes to boot. She was furious with Rackmil for taking off with their only horse and leaving her to the Indians. She was perturbed at herself for ill-advisedly attempting to make an oblivious Matt Dillon jealous with a moonlight drive alongside a good-looking city slicker. But she was exasperated beyond all reason at Matt himself because, after all the uproar, he was still laughing and joking, apparently completely unconcerned about the whole business! Not a blasted hint of jealousy in sight! Oh...that man!

Kitty knew very well he thought she was attractive. She could tell just by the way he looked at her sometimes. She'd be standing at the crowded bar of the Long Branch, chatting with a lonesome, freshly-scrubbed trail hand, bolstering his confidence by laughing at his feeble jokes and stroking his male ego until he'd worked up the courage to ask her to go upstairs with him. A girl had to make a living somehow.

She would think that she'd just about closed the deal with her shy young customer, and then she'd sense it. Matt Dillon's gaze was palpable from across the rowdy, hazy, smoke-filled saloon. She could feel his eyes on her. It was always the same. Turning slowly, she'd give a little involuntary shiver as she spotted him watching her from the doorway, an inscrutable expression on his handsome face. Just quietly looking. Then his eyes would light up at her return gaze, and she'd smile knowingly at him and politely but quickly abandon her unfortunate cowhand at the bar to meet Dodge City's marshal halfway across the floor.

"Hello, Kitty. You sure look pretty tonight," he'd say in a low, soft drawl, tipping his hat further back on his head with a long index finger. His intense clear blue eyes framed by thick, inky lashes would sweep over her figure and make her flush with pleasure at his open admiration. She'd thrill with the desire to have those soft lashes brush delicately like a butterfly's wings over her cheek as they had one evening when he'd gotten very close to whisper in her ear. She'd never forgotten that feeling.

Then he'd respectfully pull out a chair for her at a nearby table, and they'd sit and talk about their day, sharing amusing stories and troublesome worries and sometimes secrets, things they wouldn't have shared with anyone else. Matt Dillon was her dearest friend. Indeed, she was closer to him that anyone alive since she had no family of which to speak. They'd very quickly become attached after her damp, gloomy, utterly inauspicious arrival in Dodge a couple of years ago after she'd felt a connection with the big man eating breakfast across from her in the café and decided to stay awhile.

Yes, she was aware that Matt Dillon thought her attractive and considered her a friend as well, but, unfortunately, that's as far as it went. Even after she'd purchased half-interest in the Long Branch and was no longer forced to take men upstairs to share her bed for money, he still hadn't shown any inclination toward furthering their already close relationship. It'd been weeks now since she'd become partners with Bill Pence, and she was despairing that Matt Dillon truly had no interest in her in that way. She got a sick feeling in her stomach when she thought, _perhaps she wasn't good enough for him. _

That nagging thought ate at her, nibbling away at her hopes, and she tried in vain to push it away. She was good enough to be his friend, wasn't she? He'd never once acted ashamed to be with her. But as the weeks passed and still Matt treated her as nothing but a confidante, the realization that he truly might not be interested in her stung deeply. She might be fit company for a friend, but maybe she just wasn't quite good enough to be his girl.

Then she'd decided that perhaps Matt didn't realize their potential, that maybe he needed a tiny nudge in the right direction. So on a whim, a ridiculous idea in afterthought, she'd agreed to go riding around the deserted prairie way after dark with a complete stranger, hoping to spark some jealousy in Matt Dillon. Ha. Afterwards, Matt had even taken Rackmil's side, defending him against Kitty's outrage at being left behind to the Indians. But Kitty had managed to swallow her anger, ceasing her indignant rant and smiling sweetly. She'd even apologized to the fancy pants city boy.

Matt had joked that she sure had a temper. Well, Katie bar the door, she felt like she could sure enough explode right now. But she was holding it all together, trying to save face after this disaster of a plan, an ill-fated, hare-brained idea for sure. But Matt was enjoying himself entirely too much, even inviting Rackmil to eat dinner with them, of all things.

Well, she'd have dinner with them all right. Marshal Matt Dillon might not give her a thought beyond a pretty face to look at while he unburdened himself of all his problems. But she'd show him that she didn't care one whit. Tonight at dinner those two big lugs would see who ended up having the last laugh.

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	2. Chapter 2

Finding Kitty

Chapter 2  
"Dinner for Three"

Matt Dillon quickly clamped his mouth shut when he realized it was quite noticeably gaping open. Suddenly remembering to stand in a lady's presence, he reached blindly beside him, whacking James Rackmil on the arm to spur him into rising from his seat as well. Rackmil's eyes were slightly glazed and his mouth hung open just like Matt's had moments before when Kitty Russell first swept into Delmonico's in a fragrant cloud of lavender and vanilla and rose petals, a luminous vision in off-the-shoulder crimson silk.

She was, in all truthfulness, completely stunning. Matt Dillon was dazzled by Kitty's glittering, flowing beaded red dress that he'd never laid eyes on before tonight. He would've certainly remembered it if she had. She wore a black velvet choker around her slim throat, which simply emphasized the daring low cut of the dress. He didn't know where to look first with all that lovely exposed décolleté—bare shoulders, smooth back and softly-rounded, creamy bosom peeking over tiny crimson ruffles and exquisite embroidery. Flashing them both her most dazzling, white smile, Kitty strategically took the chair between the two men as they both leaned down to push it in for her at the same time, nearly thumping their heads together in their haste. Murmuring apologies, Matt peered up and noticed the brim of his hat, hurriedly removing it and placing it in the empty chair beside him. He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous, as they all settled in their seats.

"Evenin', gentlemen," Kitty beamed, removing her spotless white gloves, placing them in her matching beaded reticule.

"Evening," both men chorused, looking at each other in surprise, as if each had been hoping that the other had suddenly disappeared.

Matt quickly spoke up again, "That's an awful pretty dress you're wearin', Kitty." He cleared his throat again, fidgeting a little with his black string tie. "I don't believe I've ever seen it before."

Dangling earbobs sparkled and flashed in the lamplight as she replied, "That's because it's new, Matt. I splurged and bought it when my first income from the purchase of the Long Branch came through. Reason enough to celebrate, don't you think?" She gazed at him steadily with striking sapphire blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through him.

Quickly, he agreed, "You better believe it." Matt poured each of them a glass of whiskey and held his aloft. "Here's to..." He hesitated a moment, seeming to gather his courage. "...to the most beautiful business owner in town."

"Hear, hear..." responded Rackmil, enthusiastically raising his own glass to his lovely red-headed dinner companion.

Smiling, though inwardly surprised at what was, for Matt Dillon, an effusive toast, she took a delicate sip of her whiskey, looking at both men over the rim of her glass. Matt was busy noticing her prettily flushed pink cheeks and ruby red lips as she drank. Kitty Russell looked positively radiant. Matt cleared his throat and shook his head a little when he realized he was staring. He hurried to continue the conversation. "So, what brings you to Dodge, Rackmil?"

Kitty interjected, "Why, Matt, don't you know? Mr. Rackmil here..."

Rackmil held up a hand and interrupted, "Now, Kitty, you promised to call me 'Jim', remember?"

Matt watched as she gave a friendly smile to Rackmil. "I'm sorry, Jim. You're right. Once you've been through what we have together, you can expect to be on a first name basis, right?"

They both laughed and looked at each other a moment. Then as if suddenly recalling Matt was in the room, she gave a start. "What was I saying? Oh yes, Jim traveled here all the way from New York, and he's heading to Denver to make some mining investments. Isn't that right, Jim?" She placed a hand familiarly on Rackmil's jacket sleeve and urged, "Tell us about it, why don't you? Oh, and I want to hear all about New York. It must be very exciting to live there. Don't you think so, Matt?"

Matt watched as Kitty unfurled an intricately beaded scarlet fan with dancing black tassels while she listened raptly to James Rackmil's account of his trip out West. Matt tried to get a word in edgewise from time to time, but Kitty would interrupt, eagerly asking Rackmil yet another leading question. And then the city slicker would be off again, spinning his unending story. But the worst part was, Kitty only seemed to have eyes for him. Chin in hand, she hung on Rackmil's every word, her eyes sparkling just like they usually did when she talked with Matt.

Matt's mood suddenly took a turn for the worse. _I might as well not even be here_, he thought cantankerously, sipping his whiskey and feeling increasingly sorry for himself. As dinner wore on, Matt had to suffer through Kitty laughing at Rackmil's lame jokes, flattering his pride, and encouraging his extreme long-windedness. Matt's shoulders slumped lower and lower, and by dessert, he'd had enough. He fairly glowered across the table at this high-falutin' dude who so fascinated Kitty Russell that she had pretty much forgotten that Matt Dillon was sitting right next to her.

Kitty gave a little glance in his direction at that moment, the first in quite a while, he noted, and she commented airily, "Well, gentlemen, it's getting late."

Rackmil exclaimed, "Oh, I hadn't realized. I didn't mean to keep you so long..."

"That's perfectly fine, Jim. I had a lovely evening." She beamed and fluttered her fan while Rackmil grinned from ear to ear. Shaking her head in wonder, she remarked, "You have led such a fascinating life! Don't you think so, Matt?"

Matt scowled across the table at Rackmil and grunted a wordless reply.

Kitty continued, "How long will you be in town, Jim? I was just wondering if...well, perhaps..."

Rackmil eagerly answered, "Well, actually, I had plans to leave soon..." Rackmil's hand brushed Kitty's arm and Matt narrowed his eyes. Rackmil continued, "But I could change those plans if..."

"Oh, Jim, honestly, you shouldn't change your plans because of..."

Matt interrupted, "No, Rackmil, you shouldn't change your plans. I'm sure you have business to attend to in Colorado."

Kitty exclaimed quietly, "Why, Matt..."

Resolutely, Matt continued, "It's late. Why don't we call it an evening?"

Rackmil quickly invited, "Could I escort you home, Kitty? The marshal is right. It is late, and a lady shouldn't walk on the street unaccompanied."

"Oh, Jim," Kitty smiled gratefully. "Why, that is so thoughtful of you. I think that I..."

Matt firmly declared, "I'm escorting the lady home, Rackmil." He folded his arms across his chest. "Don't trouble yourself."

Once again, Kitty was taken aback at Matt's bluntness. She'd never expected he'd actually be rude. She'd only wanted him to pay her a little more attention. She blurted out, "Why, Matt..."

Rackmil stuttered, "I meant no offense. I just..."

Matt abruptly countered, "You just what?"

Rackmil's brow rose slightly as he took in the tall lawman's determined stance and the beautiful saloon owner's surprised expression, contemplating her old friend so curiously, as if she didn't even know him. "Ah, yes...um...Marshal, I am sure that you will safely see the lady home." He bowed to Kitty, then dared to take her hand and lightly kiss it. "My dear Kitty, it was a very great pleasure meeting you. Thank you both for a lovely dinner." He tipped his hat to them both, warmly smiling at her. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Jim."

"Rackmil."

They watched as James Rackmil hurried out the restaurant door, giving a brief, longing, backward glance over his shoulder. She heard Matt grunt wordlessly again. Looking up at her towering, broad-shouldered, resolute companion, she took his arm. "I'm ready when you are," she murmured.

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The short walk to the Long Branch was traversed in weighty silence. They hesitated in the shadows outside the saloon doors, and Kitty could feel Matt Dillon's eyes drinking her in, just like he always did. Quietly, matter-of-factly. Simply. Her lips turned up in a tiny smile because she'd worn this dress just for him. Then she took a deep breath and began haltingly, "Matt...why did you...?"

Matt's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he ran frustrated fingers through his dark hair. "I'm sorry, Kitty. I didn't mean to be so..."

Her tone was urgent as she interrupted, "Don't be sorry, Matt." Tentatively, her hand clasped his arm. "Please don't be sorry..." Then she took a breath and quickly tiptoed up. Sliding slim arms around his neck, she touched those ruby red lips to his cheek, her soft, voluptuous bosom pressing against his hard chest, and the warmth of her and the scent of her and the feel of her lips against his skin for the very first time made him dizzy with longing. Then just as suddenly, she pulled away and was gone in a soft whisper of flowing crimson skirts through the swinging doors of the Long Branch. Matt could still smell her perfume.

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	3. Chapter 3

Finding Kitty

Chapter 3  
"Caught"

"If I do shoot Kitty, I'll do it with your gun, Marshal. The first person I ever killed was a woman. I'll leave her on the trail...fresh kill." The haunting threat of bank robber Jed Gunther echoed ceaselessly in Matt Dillon's head as he waited in the brush, silent as a panther, near the dark, dilapidated cabin where Kitty Russell was being held captive by two vicious men. Uneasily he sat, all night long, accompanied only by Chester's even breathing as he slept on the ground beside him. Gut churning, Matt tried not to think of all the things that could be happening to Kitty right now. He crouched, barely breathing, the better to detect the faint sounds emanating from within the cabin, praying that Kitty was safe. He'd heard nothing that would indicate a struggle, only inaudible voices, occasional clanking that sounded like the noise of pots and pans, nothing more. Every nerve and muscle fiber in Matt's body reverberated with tension and dread, and the words that he'd spoken in the bank repeated itself in his heart like a mantra, "Don't take her."

_If only he hadn't brought Kitty to the bank with him that morning._ But on the way to speak with Botkin, he'd encountered her on the street, looking pretty as a picture in her riding habit sitting sidesaddle. He'd hardly seen her since that fateful dinner with James Rackmil because he'd been out of town so much, first in Elkader looking into the strange case of Joe Phy and then out on the prairie with a couple of buffalo hunters. The night of the dinner at Delmonico's, Matt had surprised himself with what he could only describe as raging jealousy if he was completely honest with himself. The intensity of his feelings had been startling, and it had shaken him up. But he'd never seen Kitty show much interest in other men, even that old boyfriend of hers, Cole Yankton, who'd turned out to be a bank robber whom Matt had unfortunately been forced to shoot.

But when Matt had witnessed, up close and personal, Kitty laughing and talking and seemingly immensely enjoying herself with that Eastern dandy Rackmil, something had switched on inside of him. Suddenly he felt possessive and protective of Kitty Russell, his dependable, big-hearted, caring friend who sat across from him at the dinner table looking so lovely and desirable it made his chest ache. And then later outside the Long Branch she had kissed him, big as life, even after he had acted like an ass with Rackmil, who hadn't done anything except behave like a gentleman. And now, after it was all said and done, he might lose her to these murderous animals, brothers Jed and Billy Gunther. The thought left him bleak and empty...and terrified. He'd said to Chester, "They do anything to her by g-... I'll tear their throats out." And he meant it.

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Matt held Kitty's limp body in his arms, his heart racing and his blood pumping after shooting both Gunther brothers stone dead. In cold blood is what Chester had called it. But he'd had no choice. To save Kitty, he had to shoot them outright. They didn't deserve a chance, he thought bitterly as his eyes searched her unconscious form, reassuring himself that she was alright. He hoped she'd just fainted from lack of food or fright, or perhaps both. He carried her inside to let her rest, make sure she was unharmed and find something to feed her. Matt laid her on the bed carefully, pressing a hand to her cheek to try and wake her as Chester hovered anxiously over his shoulder.

"You think she's gonna be okay, Mr. Dillon? She shore does look peaked."

Matt had to agree. Her face was very pale and drawn beneath the grime and dust left by a grueling day-long trail ride with the two homicidal Gunther brothers. On second thought, he couldn't be sure whether it was all dirt or... The thought of what they may have done to her stoked the angry fire already burning in his gut. Now that the initial relief of freeing her had worn off, he was getting worried. She still hadn't moved. "Kitty, wake up." He stroked the hair off her pallid forehead and took her limp, cold hand in his, gently patting it. "Can you hear me?"

Chester added fretfully, "Miss Kitty, are you alright?"

She made a small sound and stirred. Then brilliant blue eyes opened a crack, looking up at them in confusion. "Matt?" she mumbled in a small voice. "Where are they? Where are the Gunthers? You've got to be careful..."

Had she forgotten? The shock of seeing them killed must be playing tricks on her mind. He hurriedly reassured her, "You're okay now, Kitty. You're with me. Just me and Chester are here." Matt placed a hand on her shoulder. "They're gone. They can't hurt you."

"Gone?" She gingerly touched a hand to the left side of her head and winced at whatever she encountered there.

Alert now, Matt moved her hand aside and discovered dried blood. He looked over his shoulder at Chester whose brows beetled in concern. Matt turned back to her. "What happened?" he muttered darkly.

"What happened?" she repeated. Kitty was disoriented. "I don't know..."

"Your head has been bleeding. What did they do to you?" He touched her chin, drawing her gaze to his own. "Did they hurt you?'

"I..." Kitty's eyes narrowed as she thought. "Oh, Matt, my head hurts so badly. Jed...it was him. I can't remember what happened exactly but he'd been threatening to beat me... fetch me up is what he called it. He got mad at me, but I don't quite remember..." Her eyes fluttered closed and she lay very still.

"Kitty?" He grasped her shoulder. "Kitty, can you hear me?"

Chester's eyes were wide when she wouldn't wake. "Oh my, Mister Dillon. What do you think we should do?"

"Go get Doc," Matt answered determinedly. "Bring a wagon. She can't travel by horse." He looked into Chester's concerned face. "And Chester... hurry."

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	4. Chapter 4

Finding Kitty

Chapter 4  
"Lair"

Matt saw Chester off, grabbing the canteen and bedroll from his saddle to take inside. He noted the dilapidated state of the property with many belongings still lying around, as if the owner had perhaps died and left them behind. There was a pile of freshly chopped wood with a rusty axe out front, but he knew the Gunthers hadn't chopped it. He'd watched them like a hawk all night long. Apparently quite a few travelers still used this place to stay for the night. Maybe the unfortunate man who'd encountered Kitty and her captors on the trail had been the one who'd chopped the wood.

Matt skirted the Gunthers' bodies as he hurried back inside. He'd come back out and bury them as soon as he got a little food and water into Kitty, but only if she was resting quietly. They could wait, as far as he was concerned.

Passing the fireplace, he saw the remainder of the outlaws' breakfast, still in the pot, along with some coffee. There were more dishes in a sideboard whose doors swung open. Matt wondered what else he would be able to find of use around here. Matt hastily scooped some of the porridge into a clean bowl he found, grabbed a spoon and headed into Kitty's room. Setting the food and canteen on a rickety bedside table, he spread his blanket over her quiet form. Then he gingerly sat on the edge.

She looked so small and pale and helpless. His chest squeezed as he looked at her. _Why? Why had they taken her? _She hadn't done anything to deserve this. She'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. With him. Attending to official business. His job was dangerous, even for the innocent bystanders in his life. Matt swore to himself then and there that he would never let Kitty Russell get hurt again because of him and his job. He swore to keep her safe.

Matt splashed a bit of water from the canteen onto a clean handkerchief and placed it on her bloodless forehead. He'd noticed a well in the yard and there was a rope and bucket, too, looking as if they'd been used recently. He'd try and get them some fresh water later.

She made a soft noise and stirred again, eyelids barely fluttering open.

Matt looked at her anxiously, his heart in his throat, as he nervously rearranged the damp cloth above her eyes. "Kitty, honey, can you hear me?"

The words came out small and faint, only an echo of her usual voice. "Yes..." She frowned at a sudden memory. "Matt, the Gunthers... They're dead, aren't they?"

"Yes, Kitty. I shot them. I couldn't take any chances that they'd try and hurt you."

"Jed tried to shoot me, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. But I didn't let him."

"Thank you for saving me, Matt."

Matt felt his cheeks flush a little. "I did what I had to do, Kitty. I almost feel like it's all my fault to begin with..."

"No, don't say that." She closed her eyes tiredly for a moment. After a heartbeat, she continued, "How could it be your fault?"

Matt quickly changed the subject. "Here, take a drink of this." He cradled the back of her head in his large hand and tipped the open canteen to her lips while she sipped easily at first.

Then she took a breath, resting her head against his hand on the pillow and looked piercingly at him again. "More, please..."

He supported her head a little higher this time, and she drank deeply, greedily, and Matt fumed, wondering if they'd withheld water from her. She dropped her head back at last, breathing heavily. He wiped away some water that'd trickled from the corner of her mouth with his fingers.

He said quietly, "I have some breakfast for you. It may not be the best, but I suspect you haven't eaten since day before yesterday. Is that true?"

Her answer was a raspy whisper, confirming his fears. "Yes."

He tried not to let her see his anger, but it was glinting in his eyes as she gazed at him. He coaxed, "Take a bite of this."

She opened her mouth, and he dutifully spoon-fed her the entire bowl. "Do you want some more?"

"No..." She closed her eyes again. "I'm so tired, Matt. I didn't sleep last night. So tired..."

"Then you need to rest now." He laid the bowl down and tucked the covers around her snugly, turning the wet cloth on her forehead. "Just sleep..."

He picked up the dish and canteen and headed for the door, stopping when he heard a faint voice from the bed. "Matt?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

He felt the tips of his ears warming as he answered, "You're welcome, Kitty."

Matt laid the dish on the sideboard, taking the canteen outside to the well. The pulley was squeaky, but it worked, and soon he had a bucket of clean, fresh water. He refilled the canteen by dunking it inside, then drank thirstily from it until it was nearly empty.

Then he refilled it again and drew another bucket to carry in the house. He had to duck beneath a beam fallen from the tattered roof where daylight shone through in order to peek inside the bedroom and check on Kitty. She lay sleeping peacefully, the rise and fall of her even breaths reassuring to Matt. He felt he could leave her for long enough to bury the bodies.

Matt knew he needed to get them away from the house before they attracted predators. Unable to locate a shovel, he simply dragged the bodies feet first to a spot some yards away, so that he would still be able to keep an eye on the house, and began covering them in rocks he gathered from the immediate area.

He felt no sorrow at their passing, or even remorse at his role in their deaths as he contemplated Kitty's hunger and thirst, the dried blood on her scalp and in her hair and her obviously weakened condition. He despised them for what they'd put her through. The men he was burying were heartless and evil, and Kitty hadn't deserved anything they'd done to her.

Dropping the last heavy rock on top of the graves, he dusted his hands on his pants, wiped the sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve and loped back toward the house. Walking noiselessly inside, so as not to waken her, he crept to the bedroom door to peer within.

At first glance, everything looked peaceful and normal. But then, his eyes fell on a scaly, long reptilian shape on the bed. It was slithering slowly atop Kitty's body, seeking warmth. Matt's eyes were drawn to a small hole in the wooden floor in the far corner of the room where another rattler was just slipping through, heading in the direction of Kitty's bed as well.

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	5. Chapter 5

Finding Kitty

Chapter 5  
"Slither"

Matt's heart stopped at the sight that greeted him through the bedroom door. A prairie rattler, every bit of three feet long, had slithered atop Kitty's body, coiling on her chest, seeking warmth away from the cool weather. A second rattlesnake had slipped through a hole in the floor, also making its meandering way toward the bed, flicking its forked tongue. Kitty lay completely unaware, sound asleep, as the mottled brown snake absorbed the heat from her body.

Matt's mind raced. He couldn't shoot the snake curled on top of her chest without hitting Kitty as well. He couldn't shoot the snake on the floor without startling the snake on the bed, causing it to strike out and possibly bite her. There was only one thing to do. He steeled himself, breathing shallowly and noiselessly moving closer to the bed, one silent step at a time. The snake seemed unaware of his presence; it was facing in the direction of Kitty's head. If it struck, that's where it would bite. He prayed that Kitty wouldn't waken and startle the heat-seeking reptile.

Two more steps to go. He stopped breathing entirely. Sweat popped out on his forehead as he inched one arm soundlessly closer...closer...

Kitty stirred and the snake hissed menacingly. Matt's heart was in his throat as her eyes slowly opened. Thankfully, she lay frozen, though he could see the utter terror reflected in her stare. The snake coiled more tightly and gave a rattle of its tail, its head rearing before her face. Her eyes widened in fear, but still Kitty did not move.

Matt struck suddenly and decisively. His agile gun arm shot out, grabbing the snake just below its head. He jerked it off Kitty's body and held it at arm's length, then raced around the bed, aiming awkwardly with his opposite hand at the rattler undulating across the floor. He shot and missed. The snake on the floor lifted its head to strike, shaking its rattler in warning. Matt shot again and hit its body, but the rattlesnake was still able to strike at him.

Kitty cried out in alarm, attempting to sit up in bed. She watched in terror as the snake gripped tightly in Matt's hand hissed and writhed, wrapping itself around his arm. Matt fired again at the snake on the floor. This time the shot found its mark, the bullet piercing the rattler's head. He shot once more at close range, over the spinal cord directly behind the head, then ran out the door with the first snake still desperately gripped in his hand.

Hurrying to the wood pile, he knelt and held the snake's head over the cut end of a log, dropping his gun and grabbing the rusty axe nearby. The rattler's mouth stretched wide, giving him a view of fangs dripping with venom as its body wound round and round his arm. Matt gritted his teeth, sweat dripping into his eyes. Shaking his head hard to clear his eyes, he tried again to aim carefully. He had a very small margin for error and did not want to lose a finger. Holding his breath, Matt chopped the angry snake's head off with two blows of the axe. Standing, he pitched the snake's lifeless body far away, in the direction of the Gunther brothers' graves.

Retrieving his gun from the ground, he hurried inside to where Kitty lay, shaking, her hand held tightly over her mouth. Her frightened gaze led his eyes in the direction of the hole in the floor. Yet another rattlesnake was poking its head through. Quickly Matt strode across the floor and shot through the dark hole. Hitting his target once again, he snatched a fallen wooden shelf from the floor and dropped it quickly atop the hole, grabbing the small nightstand and turning it upside down to hold the shelf securely in place. No more snakes would get through here.

Rapidly, urgently, he searched the room, even looking under the bed and jerking Kitty's covers off, searching for any further intruders or possible entrances. He found only the snake he'd shot on the floor, still twitching and moving even in death. Matt carefully picked it up and carried it outside, slinging it distastefully across the yard, again toward the outlaws' graves. They all belonged together, he thought with satisfaction.

Noticing the blood on his hands, he stopped at the well and quickly drew a bucket to clean himself before he went inside and upset Kitty with his appearance. She'd had more than enough scares for one day. Matt dried his hands carelessly on his pants legs and hurried in to check on her.

Kitty was still curled on the bed, eyes searching the room, her labored breath coming in hiccups. He strode toward her, and her arms were outstretched, reaching for him. "Matt..." she called and her voice was nothing more than a whisper. He took her in his embrace as he sat facing her, and she buried her face in his neck. He could feel her hot tears wetting his skin, but she hardly made a sound. He didn't quite know what to say to her to calm her fears so he just stroked his own hands, trembling as well now that the danger had passed, across her shuddering back over and over, saying, "It's okay. Kitty, it's okay now..."

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	6. Chapter 6

Finding Kitty

Chapter 6  
"No More Snakes"

Matt held Kitty close for a very long time until her violent trembling eased and her tears slowed. Laying her back on the bed, he took the wet handkerchief that'd been on her forehead earlier and wiped her flushed face. He soothed, "You need to rest, Kitty. All this excitement is not good for you. You're hurt."

"I know, I know. My head aches twice as bad now." Then she added anxiously in a hushed voice, "I don't think I can sleep in this room, Matt."

"I checked everywhere, Kitty. I covered the hole. If there are any more, they can't get through."

"I'm sorry, Matt, but I just can't. I really can't."

Matt thought for a moment and then offered, "What about if we move you to the front room? This bed is small. I could easily move it in front of the fire for you."

"You'd do that for me?" Her wide blue eyes, still brimming with tears, melted his heart.

To conceal his feelings, he answered a little gruffly, "Of course."

"I hate to be such a bother..."

"You're not a bother to me. Come here," he said, gathering her into his arms. "I'll sit you in a chair while I move your bed." Matt lifted his charge effortlessly and placed her carefully in a straight-backed chair while he struggled to fit the small bed through the door. After turning it on its side, he had little difficulty in maneuvering it through.

Then he retrieved Kitty carefully from her chair, but she still winced and gasped slightly when he gripped her torso a little too tightly.

"What's the matter, Kitty? Did I hurt you?"

"No, really..."

"It's not your head, is it?"

"No, it's not my head. It's nothing really..."

"Tell me," he softly commanded as he carried her to the bed, lowering her gently.

"I don't know, Matt. Everything's so hazy, I guess because of my head. It's just..."

"It's just what?" He looked anxiously down at her side where he'd touched her and she'd cried out.

"My side hurts. I just don't remember what happened to make it so sore."

"Is it your ribs? Let me see..." He reached toward her jacket buttons.

"No, Matt! Really, I..." She blushed and she didn't quite know why. She'd had enough men see her in her altogether in her lifetime, heaven knows. But...Matt was different... She hastily explained, "I don't think they're broken. I'm just sore. I'll be alright, honestly." She stilled his hands with her own.

He stopped and gazed at her worriedly, and then at the thought of what he'd almost done, his face began to turn red. He looked down at their entwined fingers, embarrassed to look her in the eye. Then he gathered his wits about him, fetching the blanket and spreading it carefully over her. He stoked the fire, adding more wood, and asked, "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled at him gratefully, trying to ease his discomfort. "I seem to be thanking you a lot lately, don't I?"

"Kitty, I don't think I can ever do enough to make up for getting you into this situation."

"You... What? None of this is your fault, Matt!"

"Now, don't you go getting riled up, Kitty Russell. I'm sorry I said anything. You need to lay quiet and rest."

"But what if there are more snakes?"

"I will check for more snakes."

"When? Cause I won't be able to sleep a wink until I know without a doubt that there are no more snakes."

"I'll check right now." He smiled and rose, squeezing her hand lightly. Then he went about leaving no stone unturned, searching every nook and cranny in the cabin, high and low, making sure there were no more snakes so that Kitty could get some well-needed rest.

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_Scaly skin slithering, sliding, twisting, coiling around her slim, white neck. Forked tongue flicking from a pointed snout, cold eyes with slitted pupils staring into her terrified gaze, hypnotizing, hypnotizing... She is frozen in place, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to breathe. A rhythmic buzzing, rattling sound emanates from its tail, warning of impending danger. I will bite you, it is saying, and its mouth gapes open, exposing a pale bloodless mouth and long fangs dripping with lethal venom. The mouth opens wider, hissing devilishly. The wicked, writhing creature poises to strike at her, and there is no way she can stop it..._

Kitty awoke with a start in the dim light before the fire as Matt Dillon tumbled from his chair to the hard wooden floor. "Matt!" she exclaimed.

Matt groaned and sat up, a chagrined look on his haggard face.

"What on earth happened?" she asked.

"I think I fell asleep," he answered groggily. "I was dreaming..."

"What on earth were you dreaming about? I heard you call out..."

Matt looked at Kitty's worried expression in the firelight and muttered matter-of-factly, "You don't wanna know."

"It's late, Matt. You need to sleep. And you can't sleep on a chair."

"It's okay. I'll be alright, Kitty. You go on back to sleep." Matt unsuccessfully attempted to stifle an enormous yawn.

Kitty peered through the dim light at his exhausted features. "How long has it been since you've slept, Marshal?"

"I...uh..."

"That's what I thought," she answered knowingly. She sat quietly for a moment, strengthening her resolve, then whispered, "Come 'ere."

"What?" Matt had a wary look in his eye.

"I said, 'Come 'ere,' Marshal." One finely arched eyebrow lifted, daring him to argue with her. She stretched out an arm and slipped to one side of the narrow bed. "You need rest. Badly. You're not gonna get it with me hogging the bed. It's small, but I think we'll both fit reasonably well."

It was Matt's turn for his eyebrows to shoot up.

"Don't worry, Cowboy, I won't bite." She beckoned with one finger.

"Kitty, if you knew what I was just dreaming about, you wouldn't be joking like that."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But I'm not going to argue. Remember, I'm injured and don't need to get excited. So do as I tell you, big man. Come 'ere and let's both get some rest."

"But, Kitty..."

"No 'buts'." Her voice became softer, coaxing. "Do it for me. I know you're exhausted and I won't be able to rest anymore until..."

He gave a sigh and lifted himself from the floor with a groan. Seeming to gather his courage for a moment, he finally sat on the edge of the small bed.

"Lie back," she instructed firmly.

It was a tight fit, and there was only one pillow. Kitty ended up placing it under Matt's head, and after much twisting and turning, Matt tentatively wrapped his arm around her while she pillowed her head on his chest. They lay perfectly still for a while, soaking up the sensation of being so near that they could each feel the heartbeat of the other, the taking in of breath, the warmth, the scent of the other, so very close. It was a heady feeling, and Matt honestly didn't know if he'd be able to sleep a wink with Kitty Russell nestled against him, touching him, sharing her heat. But complete and utter exhaustion overcame all reservations very quickly as they both sank deeply into a dreamless sleep, together.

tbc

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	7. Chapter 7

Finding Kitty

Chapter 7  
"House Call"

"Mr. Dillon?"

Matt stirred in his sleep at a noise, but only grunted and burrowed closer to the warm softness beside him.

"Mr. Dillon, you in there?" A knock sounded at the door. It was still the middle of the night.

"Matt...?" an urgent feminine voice whispered near his ear.

"Hmmm?"

Kitty shook his shoulder. "Matt, I think Chester is here. Is the door bolted?"

Matt's eyes popped open and he rolled over, only to hit the hard wooden floor for the second time in one night. "No bolt!" he whispered hoarsely, sitting straight upright, eyes now wide open.

"Oh!" Kitty cried. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly, peering over the edge of the bed at him in the semi-darkness of faded firelight.

Matt jumped up as fast as his tired reflexes would allow. He hissed to his bed companion, "I'm fine!" then called loudly, "Coming!" all the while hastily combing his fingers through sleep-mussed hair and tucking his rumpled shirt back into his waistband. He stopped and looked at Kitty questioningly.

"You look fine. Answer the door!" she whispered impatiently.

Matt opened the door wide, smiling casually, "Chester! Doc! Am I glad to see you!"

Chester limp-hopped inside. "Mr. Dillon, how is Miss Kitty a'doin'? Is she any better?"

"Well, you can just see for yourself, Chester... Doc! Thanks for coming all this way. Did you bring a wagon?"

"We sure did. That's what you asked for, isn't it? I wouldn't have come out all this way just to... Hey, where's my patient?" Doc questioned worriedly, peering into the dim room.

Propping herself on an elbow and rubbing sleepily at her eyes, Kitty smiled warmly at her old friend. "I'm afraid you've come all this way for nothing, Doc. I'm all better. See?"

"Young lady, why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Doc came closer, perching beside her, surreptitiously eyeing the big empty hollow mashed down in the mattress next to where she lay.

Chester exclaimed, "Miss Kitty, yer awake! I'm so glad. You gave us a purty bad fright, didn't she, Mr. Dillon?"

Matt scratched at his head tiredly. "You can say that again, Chester. She fainted away, Doc. A couple of times. She's got dried blood on her scalp, but she doesn't recall what happened."

"Is that so, Kitty? You can't remember what those men did to you?"

Kitty looked away, not able to meet his eyes. She answered hesitantly, "It's true, Doc. I feel silly, but...I really can't remember all of it."

Chester muttered sympathetically, "Well, I swan..."

Matt quickly added, "Her side is hurting, too, Doc." He struck a match and lighted a couple of candles he'd discovered in the sideboard to give Doc some more light. Then he stoked up the fire, adding wood until bright orange flames leapt and crackled comfortingly in the small room.

Doc shook his head silently, peering closely at her wounded scalp through his spectacles. "You have a headache, Kitty?"

"Yeah, Doc."

"What about dizziness?"

"That, too."

Matt complained, giving her the eye, "She didn't tell me about that."

She quipped dryly, "You didn't ask."

Looking directly at Kitty, Doc pointedly asked, "Who's the president?"

She returned his gaze strangely. "The president? What kinda' question is that?"

"Tell me who the president is."

"Ullyses S. Grant. Doc, are you drunk or somethin'?"

"What year is it?"

"Eighteen seventy-six. Why on earth are you asking me these silly questions?"

"Just checking your mental state." Doc scrubbed a hand over his mustache.

"Doc, I've only got a headache. I'm not crazy. At least not yet."

Doc chuckled and took her hand, patting it comfortingly. "Honey, it sounds like you've got a concussion from some sort of blow to the head. And you say you don't remember any of it?"

"No, Doc..."

"Well, that's not uncommon either-memory loss of the incident. I need to do a thorough examination, to make sure nothing else is the matter with you, especially since you don't remember what happened. Matt, can we take her in the other room for some privacy?"

Kitty interrupted, "Ohhh, no... I'm not goin' in there."

Chester asked, "Why not?"

Drolly, Matt replied, "It's a long story, Chester. Let's you and me go outside while Doc takes care of Kitty. Whattaya say?"

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Matt and Chester conversed out in front of the cabin in the moonlight, waiting for Doc to finish examining his patient. Chester stared at Matt slack-jawed. "_Three_ snakes, you say? Well, I'll be... That Miss Kitty is a wonder. Why, if I'da been her, I don't think I coulda laid still with that snake on top a' me, a'starin' me right straight in the eye."

"She did it, Chester. Faced him down."

The door creaked open and Doc shuffled across the yard to join them.

Chester exclaimed, rubbing his forehead, "If that don't beat all... Doc, have you heard about the rattlers Mister Dillon and Miss Kitty tussled with today?"

Doc squinted at Matt. "I sure did. Kitty says you saved her life not once today, but twice."

"Aw, Doc..."

Doc suddenly requested, "Say, Chester, would you mind going inside and sitting with Miss Kitty a spell while I talk to Matt here? She really doesn't need to be by herself with a concussion, and she's a mite nervous since all those snakes tried to move in today."

"Why, sure, Doc. I'd be glad to. Me and Miss Kitty's got some catchin' up to do anyways."

"Now, Chester, don't you wear her out with your gossiping. She needs her rest."

"I know, I know, Doc. I'll see if I cain't get her to go back to sleep. As soon as she tells me all about them snakes today..." Chester muttered in astonishment to himself all the way back inside the cabin.

Matt waited for Chester to close the door behind him before he turned to his friend. "Doc?"

"Well, I was right. She has a concussion. Her reflexes aren't the best and her balance is way off. I'll just have to keep an eye on her to make sure they don't get worse."

"What about her side? Are her ribs broken?"

"I don't think so, Matt. But they're bruised pretty badly." Doc stopped and rubbed a hand over his mouth before he could continue. "Matt, the bruise was in the shape of a boot heel. I think one of 'em might've kicked her, maybe while she was down from the blow to her head."

Matt couldn't say anything. He just stood, silently simmering. Finally, he aimed a finger at the graves nearby. "They're buried over there, Doc. They paid for what they did to her. But I wish I could have just five minutes alone with whichever of those bastards hurt her like that. Just five minutes." He scrubbed a hand over his two days' beard growth. "It might make me feel a lot better right now."

Doc placed a hand on Matt's arm comfortingly. "I know what you mean, son. But we've got to take care of her now. Help her heal."

"Doc, they didn't... I mean, they didn't...hurt her..." Matt fumbled, embarrassed, feeling his cheeks grow hot, and he was suddenly thankful it was dark where they were standing.

Doc realized what his friend was struggling to say. "No, Matt, no... I don't think so. And she doesn't think so either. Of course, we don't know for sure, because of the memory loss due to the concussion, but she doesn't have injuries I've found that would suggest that she was abused in that way."

"What can you do for her, Doc? How do you heal a concussion?"

"Well, that's the problem. A concussion is a bruise on the brain. There's no medicine for that. Only rest and quiet. I don't want to put her in that wagon and take her home just yet. Too bumpy. She needs to lie still. No excitement. So that means no more snakes!"

"Doc, I'm real sorry about that."

"Oh, Matt, I'm only joshin'. Those snakes weren't your fault, for heaven's sake." He pointed an accusing finger at Matt. "But Kitty did tell me you blame yourself for her being kidnapped to begin with. What kinda nonsense is that?"

"Well, Doc, it was because she was with me that she got caught in the middle. If it weren't for me, she never would've been in that bank."

Doc tugged at his ear and thought a moment, then explained, "Matt, there's a lotta things you've done in your lifetime, especially in your youth, I dare say, that you could certainly take the blame for. But you can't go taking the blame for fate. Kitty chose to be with you that day, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"Well, is it her fault, too? Do you blame her for getting herself captured?"

"Of course not, Doc."

"And you can't blame yourself either. You'll drive yourself plumb crazy taking the blame for everything bad that happens in this rowdy cowtown." Doc shook his head decisively. "Plumb crazy. Don't you think I, of all people, should know? I can't take the blame for everything that goes wrong when people are sick or hurt. Some things are just out of our hands."

"But, Doc, I worry about her. I don't want her getting hurt because of me."

"Kitty knows the dangers." Doc looked him straight in the eye. "Why don't you let her decide?"

Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he thought.

They stood, companionably quiet for a while, as they listened to the insects singing on the prairie and gazed up at the star-filled sky, each thinking their own private thoughts. Finally, Doc urged, "Now why don't we go back inside and rescue Kitty for the third time today? I bet Chester is torturing the poor girl as we speak."

Matt smiled and clapped Doc on the shoulder before they turned and ambled back to join their friends.

tbc

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	8. Chapter 8

Finding Kitty

Chapter 8  
"Wildflower"

Kitty sat idly watching a pair of ruby-throated hummingbirds vie for a clump of wild red begonias blooming nearby. She rested on a plank bench outside the cabin, under the deep shade of a branching cottonwood tree to protect her pale skin, while Doc and Matt bickered good-naturedly and played checkers at a wooden table they'd carried outdoors. Delicate little blooms of white and pink and purple tangled themselves among the grass in the yard: poppy-mallow, henbit, bindweed and anemone. Kitty breathed in the earthy fragrance of spring and was thankful to be out and about, even if Doc would only allow her to sit quietly.

She'd been abed for two days previous, but Doc stubbornly demanded they stay one more day while she recuperated, for fear a jolting ride in a wagon over the prairie would be unsafe for her just yet. Chester had headed back to Dodge the day before to keep an eye on things around the marshal's office. Matt quietly insisted on staying behind with Doc to help watch over Kitty. She appreciated his gesture and wished she could manage some time alone with him to talk. About what, she wasn't sure. She wasn't quite certain where his feelings lay. She watched him joking with Doc, looking over at her from time to time with expressive blue eyes that made her heart squeeze in her chest. Maybe she'd figure out how to approach things before they all headed back to their daily routine in Dodge and things just settled back into the status quo.

The two diminutive yet fierce hummingbirds were battling it out now, beak to beak, chasing each other in erratic circles around the yard, flying so near she could hear the breathtakingly rapid tempo of their wings, reminding her of the sound of a large bumblebee. Kitty sat up a little straighter as she spied three riders in the distance. "Matt?" she called.

"Yeah?"

"Somebody's comin'." She tucked a stray curl behind her ear where it had escaped the loose braid she wore over her shoulder.

Matt and Doc glanced up from their game, shading their eyes with their hands as they peered across the prairie at the figures.

"Wonder what they want." Doc tipped his hat back on his head.

"Food...water...company...who knows?" Matt groused. He was not in the mood to put up with some strange cowboys or useless drifters.

"Well, we don't have much to share with 'em. We've got just about enough food to get us home tomorrow."

"I know. Chester's stew is getting low. It wasn't great, but at least it was filling. I might have to go hunt us some rabbits for supper tonight. Especially if we have company."

"Rabbit, huh? I'd sure rather have somethin' a little more substantial, Marshal."

"Substantial? Doc, Delmonico's isn't down the street and I don't see any beef cattle wandering around these parts. You should be glad for some rabbit and that I don't just toss you a hunk of jerky for supper."

Doc turned toward Kitty, calling, "Did you hear that? This young man has no respect for his elders. None a'tall. Do you think he'd stoop to serving you jerky, Kitty?"

"I don't know, Doc. Matt Dillon's a pretty tough character." Toying with the end of her braid, she slyly smiled at him, eyes sparkling mischievously. Matt shyly grinned back at her.

Doc studied him closely. "Oh, he's not nearly so tough as he acts." Doc tugged at his ear, looking across the prairie and added, "Here they come now. You two behave yourselves."

"Us?" Kitty shook her head as the three riders dismounted from their horses and walked closer. She noticed all three wore guns. She was sure that Matt did, too. They were unshaven and dusty as though they'd been traveling for a couple of days.

"Howdy," one of the men greeted them. He was tall and thin with hollow eyes and looked like he could use a good meal. A few of them, in fact.

One of his partners appeared as though he'd been the one receiving the lion's share of the trio's provisions. His shirt buttons were straining, and he squinted at them with tiny, colorless, piggy eyes. "You folks got some water to share?" He looked to the nearby well.

Matt spoke up, "Sure, help yourselves."

The piggy-eyed man sauntered to the well, glancing curiously over at Kitty in the deep shade beneath the sheltering branches of the tree.

Doc questioned, "You three headin' somewhere nearby?"

The short fellow with lanky blonde hair and a scruffy beard and mustache answered, "Naw, we ain't headed nowhere in particular." He wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. "Right, Jasper?" He was talking to the tall, skinny man.

"Naw, we ain't goin' nowhere particular. We just left a ranch. Got tired o' takin' orders," Jasper chuckled. "Fella by the name o' Jake Worth."

Doc spoke up, "Say, we know him! Real nice fella, Jake Worth."

"You folks live here?" the short, blonde man asked, looking around.

Matt answered, "No, this cabin is deserted. We're just takin' shelter here for a while. We'll be headin' back home soon."

Jasper commented, "I didn't think so. That gal over there don't look like she belongs here."

The small blonde man narrowed his eyes as he looked more closely while Jasper pointed, "Hey, lookee there. We know her. 'Member her, Layton?"

The piggy man at the well spoke with sudden recognition, "Shore, I remember her! Back when we first come into Dodge. How could a man forget, right Horace?" Layton grinned at his friend, revealing tobacco-stained teeth.

Horace ambled lazily toward the cottonwood and continued, "Kitty, right? That's your name. You remember us?"

Matt had been listening, his gut roiling into a slow burn at the men's talk, but when Horace moved nearer to Kitty, he suddenly interrupted, "Boys, did you get plenty of water?"

Layton capped the last of their canteens and set them down, wiping his wet hands on his filthy pants. "We got us some water, but maybe we ain't got us all we want." He spit tobacco juice on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Skinny Jasper giggled and slapped his knee, echoing, "We ain't got all we want..."

Alarm bells began to ring in Matt's head. He instantly strode toward Kitty's side while she demanded, "You men have your water. Now it's time for you to head out." She stood and put her hands obstinately on her hips. "You've got all you're gonna get here."

Doc reiterated firmly, "It's time for you boys to leave."

Horace drew his gun, and Jasper began his ominous cackling anew. "What if we ain't ready to leave?" Horace sidled closer to Kitty, pointing his pistol toward Matt and Doc. "What if we wanna get us a little piece of this here saloon girl? You don't mind, do ya, Kitty?" Horace reached out toward Kitty slowly, his fingers touching her hair.

Matt whipped out his gun with lightning speed, bashing Horace on the head with the barrel. Horace crumpled to the ground, moaning. When Layton took a step toward Matt, Doc fiercely elbowed the fat man in the kidney-once, twice-watching him double over in pain, paralyzed by the blow.

Eyes gleaming, Matt turned to skinny Jasper who had ceased his giggling and put up his hands. "Don't hurt me, mister! I ain't gonna do nothin'!"

Angrily, Matt took another step closer to Jasper, who cried, "Honest, mister, we didn't mean nothin' by it!"

"Get your buddies here, get on your horses and get outta here," Matt breathed in a low voice. Matt grabbed Horace by the back of the belt and hauled him over to his horse, effortlessly throwing him over the saddle. Jasper struggled to help a moaning Layton put his foot in the stirrup and hoist himself up. Matt slapped the rumps of the two horses, sending them trotting on their way, while Horace scrambled to jump on his own mount before Matt changed his mind and turned his attentions to himself.

"Giddup!" he called frantically to his horse, and he took off after his companions, casting a glance over his shoulder at Kitty who still stood beneath the tree, eyes blazing, fists balled on her hips.

Doc shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. Then, patting Kitty comfortingly on the shoulder, he shuffled wordlessly inside the cabin, flexing the elbow he'd jabbed into the drifter's kidney and clenching his fists angrily.

Matt glanced at Kitty who sat back down on the bench like her knees had suddenly given out on her. She refused to meet Matt's eyes. Sitting down quietly next to her, he swallowed hard, wondering what to say. Finally, he took a breath and offered simply, "It's okay now, Kitty..."

But she hastily interrupted him in a strained voice, "No, it's not, Matt."

tbc

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	9. Chapter 9

Finding Kitty

Chapter 9  
"Roots"

Frowning, Matt scooted a little closer on the bench, lightly touching a hand to Kitty's arm. He felt her physically flinch. "Kitty, really, it's alright. It's all over." He heard her take a shuddering breath.

Her voice was so low and so very defeated, he had to lean closer to hear her. She murmured, "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Matt sat silently, puzzling over her statement, running his fingers through his dark hair thoughtfully. Finally, he asked, "What do you mean?"

She stared out at the prairie, in the direction the drifters had ridden, seeming to speak only to herself as she whispered hollowly, "...over before it's even begun..."

"Kitty, I don't understand."

She gave a mirthless laugh. "I know you don't, Matt." She abruptly started to stand. "Don't worry about it..."

Matt grabbed her hand and pulled her insistently back down on the bench facing him. "Don't go, Kitty."

She looked surprised but held onto his hand. Then she focused her gaze down at their entwined fingers and asked sadly, "Are you ever ashamed of me, Matt?"

"Ashamed of you...? No, Kitty..."

"But what about those men?" She absently traced a finger over the back of his hand, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Weren't you ashamed of me today because of the way they acted...what they said about me?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?" She tucked a loose red curl behind her ear.

"Kitty, you can't help what other people say and do..."

"But you know what I used to do for a living, Matt."

"Kitty, look at me." He touched her chin, searched her eyes. "You don't do that anymore."

"I used to. And people from my past like those men may continue to come back to haunt me."

"Kitty, you did what you did to survive, to make a living, right?"

"Yeah."

"Nobody can blame you for that, honey."

She looked up at him with big melting sapphire eyes, making his heart constrict in his chest, and murmured, "I like it when you call me that, Matt."

"You do?" His voice rose a little in surprise.

She nodded. Then she took a deep breath, removed his hat, and touched her lips softly to his cheek.

"You really like it when I call you that?" A smile turned up one corner of his mouth. "Honey...?"

She kissed him softly on the other cheek. "Mm-hmm." Then she looked up at him through her lashes. "And you really aren't ashamed of me, Matt?" She traced a manicured nail over his bottom lip.

"Unh-uh..." he murmured, and he kissed the tip of her finger, making her shiver in delight.

She felt him staring at her face, his eyes traveling to her mouth. She bit her bottom lip, then asked, "You wouldn't be ashamed of me if I were your girl?"

"Never."

"Honest?"

"Honest, Kitty..." He placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, "Can I kiss you now, honey?"

"Oh, you can kiss me, Matt Dillon. But first I gotta know."

"Know what?"

"Do you want me to be your girl?"

"Yes, Kitty, I want you to be my girl. Without a doubt." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Can I kiss you now?"

Suddenly she pulled back, eyes narrowed, "Say, Matthew Dillon, you're not sayin' that just so you can kiss me, are you?"

"Is that what you think of me? You know I'm not that kind of a man, Kitty."

Gazing into his honest blue eyes and guileless expression, she sighed, "Yeah, I know you're not." Then she added wistfully, "You know, I've been waiting for this for a very long time."

"You have?" He put both hands on her cheeks and smiled a sweet, lazy smile. "So have I, Miss Kitty. So have I."

"Oh, yeah? Well, what're you waitin' for? Shut up and kiss me, Cowboy."

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The wide, wheat-colored prairie fairly inched past the creaking wagon while Doc steered the team toward Dodge as slowly as he could possibly manage without actually going backwards, Kitty thought with a smile. He'd insisted on driving himself because he didn't trust Matt not to jolt his patient and reinjure her poor head. Doc and Matt had made her a soft pallet in the back, but she couldn't lie still. She'd been still for three days straight now and was plumb wore out with it.

Doc fussed and cajoled, trying to get her to lie back but Kitty just crossed her arms and pressed her lips stubbornly together until Matt tied Buck to the back and crawled in the wagon bed with her. He sat leaning against the side and just as stubbornly pulled Kitty halfway into his lap with her head pillowed comfortably on his chest. "Rest," he commanded, winking up at Doc whose bushy eyebrows reached for the azure-blue Kansas sky as he turned back to his reins, smothering a smile and chuckling softly to himself. He figured fiery-tempered Kitty Russell had finally met her match with a Dodge City marshal twice her size.

Matt wrapped his arms around her slim waist securely while she folded her hands over his and gave a big sigh. He could feel her relaxing slowly against his body, muscle by muscle, within his comforting embrace. Pretty soon, she was breathing softly and evenly, and he knew she had stopped fighting it and was sound asleep.

His chest ached, thinking of all she had been through the past few days. He blamed himself for most of it. Looking down at her relaxed expression in peaceful slumber, his breath caught in his throat at the sight—dark lashes against pale, freckled , delicate skin. Plump, peach-colored lips that begged to be tasted... Matt knew without a doubt that he had it bad for Kitty Russell, the smartest, bravest, sweetest, most spirited girl in town.

But how to protect her? He thought of the Gunther brothers, jabbing the barrel of a gun into Kitty's tender side and taking her away as a human shield. He had seen the unfortunate truth in Jed Gunther's stone cold eyes at the moment he'd realized Kitty was special to Matt. He'd reveled in telling Matt how he'd hurt her if they were followed. That bastard was a born killer, and Matt had known he wouldn't hesitate to kill Kitty at the first opportunity. He remembered the frightened look on her face when they'd dragged her away, but she'd been brave, telling him, "It's alright, Matt."

But that hadn't been enough. One or perhaps both of the men had hurt her badly while she was their prisoner. Hitting her so hard she suffered a concussion, kicking her in the ribs... Matt gritted his teeth just thinking about it, squeezing his eyes shut trying to block out the violent, scary images that ran rampant in his tortured mind. He didn't want that ever to happen to her again. Ever.

"Matt?" It was a sleepy voice calling to him.

He opened his eyes with a start.

"What's the matter, Matt? Are you okay? You look upset."

"I'm fine, Kitty." He gave her a small, unconvincing smile.

"Matt Dillon, I can tell when something is wrong."

Matt glanced circumspectly up at Doc, happily holding the reins and loudly singing away about a long lost love in Tupelo as he had for the past thirty minutes. He wasn't paying them a bit of attention and couldn't hear a word they were saying. Matt lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Kitty, can you do something for me?"

She looked up at him warily. "Depends..."

"Kitty...I...I know I told you I wanted you to be my girl..."

"Yesss..." she said cautiously. She could barely breathe, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"Do you think we could keep it...I mean, us... a secret?"

She whispered, "A secret?" and her eyes clouded over as she looked away suddenly.

"What Kitty?"

"Nothing." Here voice was flat and so was her expression.

"Tell me."

"You are ashamed of me." Her brow crinkled and her face was crestfallen.

Matt quickly rushed to explain, "No... No! Really, that's not it at all. I'm just...afraid for you."

"Afraid?"

"I'm afraid you'll be hurt."

"I'm not afraid of you, Matt..."

"No, not me, honey. I'm afraid of what my enemies might do to you."

"But, Matt, you're the bravest person I know. You're not afraid of anything."

"I am where you're concerned. I'm afraid for you, Kitty. I have a lot of enemies, you know. I don't want you to ever be hurt again, like the Gunther brothers did. I couldn't stand it if anybody did anything like that to you again, sweetheart."

A look of relief washed over her tired features with the realization that Matt Dillon was trying to protect her. "Matt?"

"Yeah, Kitty?"

"Call me that again."

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah, that..."

"I'll call you sweetheart all you want if I can just keep you to myself. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Promise?"

"I promise...sweetheart." He sneaked a swift, tender kiss on her lips and then held a silencing index finger to his own mouth as he smiled, glancing up at Doc's back while he held the reins, singing his heart out about the prettiest girl in all of Tupelo.

Kitty settled back against Matt's broad chest, soaking in his warmth and strength and comfort. She reveled in the feel of his arms enveloping her and wondered how she'd ever manage to keep her love for him a secret from all of Dodge.

_The End, unless you wish the story to go a little farther, and spicier, if you know what I mean, in an "optional" Chapter 10._

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	10. Chapter 10

Finding Kitty

Chapter 10  
"Under Rumpled Sheets"

_This chapter is intended for mature audiences._

Matt knocked on Kitty's door, very lightly, not wanting to wake her if she was still asleep. Carrying a breakfast tray from Delmonico's in one hand, as he had every morning this week since they'd gotten back in town, Matt listened for sounds of stirring within. "Come in," a small, drowsy voice called out. Smiling, he opened the door and strode into her bedroom, raising the blinds with one hand to let the late morning sun stream across the bed.

He'd found he highly enjoyed how the light set Kitty's red hair on fire and made her pale skin seem even more luminescent. She sometimes objected good-naturedly, shading her eyes with her hands or covering her face with the sheet, but he ignored her complaints. The sight of Kitty relaxed and sleep-tousled and surrounded by sunbeams took his breath clean away.

He'd promised Doc he would help make sure she was eating right, not just beer, pretzels, boiled eggs and other barroom fare, and that she got plenty of rest. "REST," Doc had stated unequivocally and undeniably with a firm look on his face, emphatically pointing his finger until Matt's face colored and he ducked his head. "I told her no excitement for at least a few more days. Do you understand me, young Mr. Marshal?"

He understood. No excitement. Each evening he'd stopped by the Long Branch at the end of his rounds. Each evening she'd said good night to Sam and he'd walked her upstairs. She'd offered him a nightcap and they'd shared their day until he regretfully said he needed to be getting on back.

And then each evening he'd kissed her goodnight. He'd start slow and gentle, but her lips were so soft and pliable and her tongue tasted like smoky-flavored whiskey and her mouth was so slick and warm and wet. He'd feel himself responding to the small sounds she made and the way her hands desperately threaded through his hair, her body pressing hungrily against his. And then he'd break away, breathless, and say, "Goodnight, honey."

"Oh, Matt," she'd say mournfully.

And he would place a finger to her lips, and she'd kiss the tip, and he'd say, "Doc would kill me, sweetheart. I want you to be well."

"Oh, Matt," she'd breathe again, brows knitting together, and he'd place a firm kiss on those swollen lips of hers, backing out the door as he clumsily put his hat on.

"Soon..." he'd say. "Soon."

Then he'd bring her breakfast with a smile each morning, hoping that the good food and good company would speed her recovery. He couldn't imagine the conversation he'd need to have with Doc to get her cleared for, uh, physical activity. He turned pink to the tips of his ears just thinking about it.

Matt turned from where he'd adjusted the window blind to let the yellow-gold light of morning spill into the room and faced the bed. Kitty Russell lay with only a sheet covering her, and his mouth fell open at the sight. This morning he could tell by the way the sheet draped over her that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. He could see every generous curve of her body outlined in the thin fabric which clung to her like a second skin. His mouth ran dry and he forgot what he was going to say.

She propped herself up with her elbows behind her. "You gonna stand there holdin' that all day?" she asked him in amusement, nodding toward the tray of food.

"No! Here... I brought you some... yeah..." He placed it on the nightstand, then swallowed hard when she patted the bed beside her. He gingerly sat facing her.

"Gimme a bite of that bacon," she said as she scrubbed at her eyes with the ball of one hand.

He handed it to her and she broke it in half, popping one piece into her own mouth and the other into his. He grinned at her as he chewed and she grinned back. He was terrible about stealing her food, and she knew it.

"Another bite?" he asked and she nodded, dragging her fingers through her loose hair. He noticed the clothes she'd worn the night before were scattered carelessly around the room, on the floor, on the furniture, at the foot of the bed. Rich plum-colored silk dress, frilly petticoats, beribboned corset and lacy satin pantaloons...

He broke another piece of bacon in half to share with her, and as she shifted toward him, the sheet slipped down, revealing soft, creamy shoulders to his hungry gaze. His mouth was watering by now, and it wasn't just because of the breakfast they were sharing. He longed to taste Kitty as well.

Clearing his throat, he quipped, "Better be careful, Kitty. You're liable to catch cold sleeping like that," as his eyes raked over her cotton-swathed body.

He quickly popped another bite into her mouth and she nipped playfully at his finger, grinning as she chewed.

"Ow! You're a little firebrand, you know that?"

"So they tell me," she replied, one brow delicately arched. The corners of her mouth turned up the slightest bit, and then she scooted over on the bed, patting the warm space beside her. "Come 'ere, Cowboy."

Matt thought for only half a second, gnawing on his last bite of bacon, before he kicked off his dirty boots and eagerly stretched back on the pillow beside her. She reached over, removing his hat and tossing it onto the bedpost, then smiled enigmatically at him. Leaning over him, she gave his cheek a lingering kiss, her tousled hair falling into her eyes. Then she whispered in his ear, "I want you to touch me, Matt."

At her seductive words, his breath came more quickly as his gaze searched her pretty face. Reaching down, she tugged the sheet from her body, revealing herself to him in the slanting light of an ordinary Tuesday morning. The vision made his head spin. White shoulders, bare breasts, softly rounded stomach with generous, womanly hips, a thatch of enticing auburn curls at the juncture of long, smooth legs. He could feel himself drowning in her loveliness.

"Touch me, Matt..."

His head felt as though it was swimming as he reached for her, softly, gently, barely skimming the tips of his fingers over her slim throat. She closed her eyes at the sensation. He traced his fingers slowly down, down, groaning as he cupped her voluptuous breast in one palm. Leaning on one elbow, he circled one pink rosebud nipple with his middle finger, softly, softly, and then the other, until her breath came faster and she made a small sound in her throat.

Suddenly her hand covered his, and she entwined her fingers in his own, urging his touch downward. Their hands skimmed together, slowly, over her ribcage, still faintly discolored from her captor's abuse, and the pain in his chest at the sight reminded him again how much he loved her. Their hands inched infinitesimally as one over her soft belly, and he could feel her breath quickening, quickening with desire. He parted the soft, fiery curls that crowned her thighs, and again, she whispered, "Touch me..."

At the moment his rough, calloused fingers touched her soft, yielding woman's flesh her eyes opened wide with wonder and she drew in a breath. Parting her legs, she offered herself to him and cried out, overwhelmed at the sensation of her sweetheart's touch. She let him explore her most secret spots, arching her back in utter abandon. He suckled her breasts, traced his wet tongue around her bellybutton, kissed her eager lips that murmured insensibly under his ministrations, over and over and over until she was breathless.

"Oh, Matt," she whispered, "Don't stop...don't stop..." and he stroked and petted and fondled until her breasts heaved and her hips undulated rhythmically and she sobbed out loud. Then, with a sharp cry, she shuddered fiercely, straining against his hand, and he reveled in the feeling of her body responding so completely to his touch.

With her eyes closed, she moaned, "What did you just do to me?"

Suckling a tantalizing straining pink nipple, he murmured against her flesh, "Only what you asked me to..."

With trembling hands, she cradled his head to her breast, observing in wonderment, "I always dreamed of the day you'd touch me like this."

"You did?" His voice rose a notch.

"Yess... " she ended in a sibilant hiss as his wandering hands managed to touch her in the perfect spot. "Don't tell me you never thought of me...?"

"Aw, Kitty..."

She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark curls, "Come on, Matt. Sometimes at night when you couldn't go to sleep, didn't you think of me a little?"

When he blushed to the tips of his ears, she smiled because she had her answer. She rolled lazily on her side and propped her head on one elbow, her fingers slowly unbuckling his belt. "Are you ready to find out, Cowboy?"

He smiled a crooked little smile at her as she slowly unbuttoned his pants. "Ready as I'll ever be, honey."

End

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